


My Everything.

by Icanwritesee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mycroft's injured and it's not making ANY SENSE whatsoever but then who cares, Mystrade fluff, actually underneath this blahblahblah is a plot, it's in there promise, shortie though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:02:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5680675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanwritesee/pseuds/Icanwritesee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in the end, it proved to be a petty case of smuggling. barely a 4. waste of time, really. but Greg got a bit emotional every time he thought about it months and years after the original events that led to the happy solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Everything.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [modbees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/modbees/gifts).



> because I may have or may have not promised her such a oneshot. and because I'm stuck at writing a second chapter to my previous work. hope you all enjoy this one, though.
> 
> the original headcannon surrounding those two is not mine, I've also never written a Mystrade before, so brace yourself. Mystrade's coming.

in the end, it proved to be a petty case of smuggling. barely a 4. waste of time, really. but Greg got a bit emotional every time he thought about it months and years after the original events that led to the happy solution.

Lestrade called Sherlock, but he got the other Holmes instead. the other Holmes that seemed like water in comparison to his younger sibling's fiery personality. where Sherlock was quick to minimize any distance and just introduced himself, Mycroft liked to embrace his superiority and sticked to official titles. Greg could relate to that, actually. his career at the Yard constituted of many rises and many more falls, times of searching and times of finally finding what one was looking for. he still liked to acknowledge his professional title from time to time, just to show youngsters their place in the line; for that reason Mycroft could want to do something similar, but on a different level. way over Lestrade's division, of course, but still. a man couldn't solely become the British government without expecting long and hard work.  
being around Sherlock for more than a month could significantly shift one's perspective, especially when it came to Mycroft Holmes. the younger one barely even mentioned he had a brother in the first place. when Lestrade met him by a coincidence weeks after Sherlock's rehab, Mycroft was acting on what Greg found as an autopilot - brief and, most of all, up to the point. calculated. _cold._ Sherlock, asked about that unnecessary touch of drama, only rolled his eyes and sighed (not dramatical _at all_ ), muttering something around: 'and people claim _I'm_ the dramatic one'.  
ah, yes. drama - Holmes' inherited trait that Greg could write books about, not being exposed to it to John's level, but still. if Sherlock ever _was_ difficult before John started to orbit him, inspector was sure that when he met the good doctor, life of police force and one and only detective inspector Lestrade instantly became seriously easier. much less aggressive, granted.  
  
*

smuggling may have been petty, but the fear gripping his throat in a vice was much more realistic than Lestrade could ever predict. he could only remember certain parts of the evening, like it was some kind of a mosaic he failed to complete. he remembered being on his own because Sally went in a different direction that he chose to. then, he heard few gunshots. quick checkup confirmed that he wasn't the injured one. but for some reason, he threw a glance behind his arm and discovered a body lying in a corner. he ran to make sure the person was alive, and everything after that became only a blur. because Mycroft Holmes lied there. because his hands were stained by government official's blood. because his seemingly cold blue eyes were now widely open in horror. because both of them were trembling. and because the only thing he was actually capable of doing, was applying pressure to the wound on Mycroft's side.  
\- oh, Gregory... - sighed Mycroft with unusual softness crossing his face. Greg's thumb found his way to the other man's cheek. - I always wondered...  
\- yes, love? - he whispered, leaning in.  
Mycroft coughed.  
\- I always wondered... - he repeated after a moment. - ...how it was to die beside someone dear to one's heart...  
at that, Greg saw red. just how _dare_ he.  
\- listen to me now - detective inspector Lestrade ordered the British government in person much fiercely than intended. - you're not going to die because I will. not. let. you. to. and if you do, I'll make sure to find your Holmes arse and kick it, are we clear?  
Mycroft, unable to answer properly, only nodded with darkness in his eyes.  
\- good boy - Greg smirked a bit. - I must admit, even you, Holmeses, learn.  
\- oh, we learn _exceptionally_ well.  
Lestrade squinted his eyes, quietly taking the sight in: unnaturally pale Mycroft Holmes with a hints of what seemed like blush on his cheeks, admitting he had feelings. for him.  
\- world's a strange place, Holmes - he sighed, leaning in a bit more than it was necessary.  
\- it is?  
\- oh, yes. for example, my unassuming copper self had the pleasure of being snatched by someone like you and then...  
\- what happened then?  
\- then... someone like you became my...  
\- yes?  
\- _My Everything_ \- he finished, closing the remaining space between them with a sweet kiss.  
in the end, it proved to be a petty case of smuggling. barely a 4. but this time, Gregory Lestrade discovered he didn't mind it even one bit.

 


End file.
